


The Shirt

by JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle



Series: Summer and Fall 2015 [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, fake boyfriend, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle/pseuds/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric didn't mean to wear Jack's shirt to make breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> As always, the characters and world they inhabit belong to Ngozi. This is unbeta'd; please let me know about any mistakes!

Bitty hadn’t meant to wear it down to the Haus kitchen.

It was just that it was getting chilly in the mornings, and when Bitty got up early on a Sunday in late October, he didn’t think before pulling on gray fleece pants and the red flannel shirt he had worn back from Providence way back in August.

The shirt, comfortably large and soft with scores of washings, normally hung on a hook next to his door. It had been there all year, and no one had commented on it. Bitty only took it down when he needed to envelop himself in Jack: Jack’s shirt, Jack’s warmth, Jack’s scent.

Bitty had wrapped himself in the shirt the night before when he Skyped Jack, knowing he would only have a few minutes because the Falconers were on a road trip and Jack would be sharing a room.

Tater usually liked to shower before bed, even if he’d showered earlier at the rink, so Jack would take advantage of that time to call Bitty. Bitty had been waiting with Skype window open to see Jack’s icon blink on and connected the call.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Jack said, when their screens came to life.

“Sure am,” Bitty said. “I miss you, and it still smells like you, just a little. If I bring it to Providence next time I come, will you wear it for a while?”

“Sure, Bits,” Jack said. 

“Good game tonight,” Bitty said.

“Ehh, could have been better,” Jack said.

“You can’t win them all, Jack,” Bitty said. “It was close, and the team played well. You played well, and you know it.”

“If you say so,” Jack said. “Water just turned off.”

“OK. I love you. Talk tomorrow?”

“Talk tomorrow. I love you too, Bitty.”

Bitty had reluctantly pulled the shirt off -- if he wore it too long, it would start to smell more like him than Jack -- and fell asleep with it next to his pillow.

In the morning, he dragged himself out of bed at the unholy hour of 6:30 a.m. to start a batch of the maple-glazed donuts that had, indeed, become Haus favorite. The dough needed to rise twice, so Bitty knew he had a good three, probably three and a half hours before they were ready to fry. Ideally, he would put them in the oil when he heard people start moving around upstairs and have them glazed by the time his Haus mates appeared in the kitchen.

That meant he’d have three hours to work on the essay he’d been putting off. That’s what he told himself, as he swung his legs out of the warm cocoon of his blankets and let the covers slip off his T-shirt clad shoulders. He shivered and reached for the sweatpants pooled on the floor next to the bed, and tugged on the shirt before scuffing his sock-clad feet into slides and making his way downstairs.

His plan worked, sort of. The doughnuts got made and the oil was heated to 365 degrees when he heard the floorboards creak. His essay was … well, not done, but he’d made progress. Bitty made up his mind to be happy with that, as he moved to the stove to start frying the doughnuts two at a time, draining them on paper towels when he removed them and started the next ones. He had a dozen done when Chowder appeared, and he took a break from frying to glaze them. 

“Coffee, Chowder?”

“Sure, Bitty. Is there some made?”

“Sure is,” Bitty said. “Here you go.”

The cuff on the shirt flopped over Bitty’s knuckles as he put the mug down.

“That’s a little big on you,” Chowder observed. “Usually my clothes get smaller when I wash them.”

Bitty went back to frying doughnuts.

He was still standing at the stove when Lardo came in and headed straight for the coffeepot. “Bits,” she said. “Homemade doughnuts? Dude, you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s all right,” Bitty said, turning toward her for just a moment. “It gave me something to do while I worked on my essay.”

He turned back quickly to make sure he turned the doughnuts in time, and didn’t see her narrow her eyes as she took in his clothes.

Ransom and Holster clattered in just as Bitty put the second plate of glazed doughnuts on the table.

“Bitty! Perfect timing!” Holster said.

“Perfect doughnuts!” Ransom said.

“Thanks, y’all,” Bitty said. “You want coffee?”

“Bitty, sit,” Lardo said. “You need to eat too. Let them get their own coffee. Holster, get Bits a refill, too.”

“Yes, Lardo-who-must-be-obeyed,” Holster said, rolling his eyes, but he headed for the coffee anyway. “It’s gonna be a couple of minutes, Bitty. I need to make a fresh pot.”

“That’s fine,” Bitty said, moving to put the bowl that had held the glaze and his utensils in the sink. “I can just --”

“Bitty, sit down,” Lardo said. “You’ve been up since maybe the ass-crack of dawn to make us doughnuts. We can handle the dishes.”

“Let me just run water in these,” Bitty said. “And leave the oil in the Dutch oven. I’ll take care of it. If you pour it down the drain, it’ll --”

“Clog the pipes and we’ll have to get a plumber,” Ransom finished. “We know.”

“Fine,” Bitty huffed, pulling his apron over his head and flopping in his chair. He was putting a doughnut on a plate when he realized the room had gone quiet. He looked up. Ransom was looking at him, then at Holster.

Holster had caught the look and looked at Bitty as well.

“Is Bitty wearing Shitty’s shirt?” Holster asked.

“No, dude, that’s Jack’s shirt,” Ransom said.

“You sure? I remember Shitty wearing that,” Holster said.

“Yeah, but it was Jack’s,” Lardo said. “Seriously, can you see Jack wearing Shitty’s clothes?”

“True,” Holster said. “And Shitty would 100 percent wear Jack’s clothes. Where’d you get it, Bitty?”

“It was just in my room,” Bitty said. “The night I came back.”

After I hung it up when Jack left, Bitty added in his head. He was hoping Lardo didn’t call him on it; he’d been wearing it when Jack drove them back to the Haus.

She didn’t.

“Maybe he just forgot to take it with him and someone hung it in your room,” Chowder said. “You can ask him next time he comes here.”

“I don’t know,” Lardo said. “Looks good on you, Bits. Finders keepers, right?”

“It is warm,” Bitty said.

“Not like Jack can’t afford to buy more clothes, right, Bitty?” Ransom said.

“I guess so,” Bitty said. “But I can ask if he wants it back.”

He was thinking, “I already did. He doesn’t.”

After he finished his second doughnut, Bitty collected his laptop and went upstairs to work on his essay.

He had just started when he remembered his lecture notes were still downstairs. He reached the bottom of the stairs and was about to enter the kitchen when he heard Ransom and Holster talking near the sink.

“Bro, I think Bitty’s still got it bad for Jack,” Ransom was saying. “Finding a way to get his shirt and wearing it? That’s, like, Olympic-level pining.”

“I know,” Holster said. “That can’t be healthy. Maybe we should work harder on finding him a dude.”

“That might help him get over Jack,” Ransom said. “But bro, he’s so picky. He hasn’t liked anyone we found for him.”

“There was that rugby bro,” Holster said. “But that didn’t really last too long.”

Bitty went back to landing and made sure to make more noise coming down the stairs, walking into the kitchen. “Did I leave my notebook here?” he said. 

Two hours later, his essay -- on the effect of pop music on the anti-Vietnam War movement -- was as done as it was going to get.

He closed his laptop, pushed his chair back from the desk, and stretched with his hands over his head. Time to get out.

He grabbed a hoodie and his phone and earbuds and headed for the stairs.

Lardo’s door was open, and she called out as he passed by.

“Bits! Where’re you going?”

“Maybe Annie’s?” Bitty said. “I just need to get out of here, and not to the library. I’ve been working all day.”

“How much coffee have you had today?” she asked. 

“Yeah, maybe more coffee’s not such a good idea,” he said.

“Fro-yo?” she said. “I’ll come with.”

Bitty shrugged. “Sure, if you want.”

They were quiet as they walked the few blocks off campus to the fro-yo store. When Bitty sat down with his cup of vanilla-chocolate swirl with chocolate chips and coconut, Lardo tapped the cup with her spoon.

“So you took Jack's shirt off,” she said. “Did you put it back in the shrine?”

“The what?”

“The shrine to Jack Zimmermann that you call a bedroom,” Lardo said. “Come on, Bits, I feel for you, but don't you think it would be better if you at least tried to move on?”

“Tried to what?”

“Bitty, you've been pining over Jack forever, and I know he loves you, dude, but not like that, and nothing good is going to come of this,” Lardo said. “Put his shirt in a drawer. Take down some of the Falconers stuff. Get out and meet someone. I mean, how would Jack feel if he saw your room like that?”

Bitty stared at his yogurt. He crumpled and smoothed a napkin. He tapped his spoon on the lip of his cup. Then he set his jaw and looked up at Lardo.

“You've got it all wrong,” Bitty said. “I'm not pining over Jack.”

Lardo just raised an eyebrow.

“Really,” Bitty said. “You know Jack and I are friends, and maybe I go a little overboard on the Falconers’ stuff because it's fun to be a fan, but Lardo, I have a boyfriend.”

Lardo raised the other eyebrow.

“I do,” Bitty said. “But he doesn't even live in this state, and he really can't be out, so we're keeping our relationship private. I'd appreciate it if you'd respect that.”

“Really, Bitty?” she asked. “Because you seemed so sad at the end of the summer.”

“Because I was coming back to Samwell, where my boyfriend does not live,” Bitty said. “I mean, I love y’all, but I miss him.”

“So, since the summer?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Bitty said, and blushed.

“All right,” Lardo said. “Just protect your heart, OK? I’d like to meet this guy.”

“You'd like him,” Bitty said. “Speaking of, how's Shitty?”

Lardo went quiet. 

“I don't really know,” she said. “We were really close over the summer, but now we haven't talked -- like really talked -- or spent time together in weeks. I mean, if I text him, he texts back, but I can't tell what's going on with him.”

Bitty gripped her hand just for a moment. “I'm sorry, Lardo,” he said. “That's got to be hard. D’you want me -- I mean, if you asked Jack, he might try to find out what's going on?”

“Nah, Bits,” Lardo said. “Jack's under so much pressure. I don't want to make things harder. Shitty’ll work it out.”

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Bitty said.

Late, late that night, Bitty sat on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, waiting for Jack to connect the Skype call. Jack was going to be exhausted, getting home late after their second game in two days, but it least they won, and Jack had scored one of their three goals.

Bitty had tried to nap after getting home from the fro-yo trip, but maybe Lardo was right. He had had too much caffeine. At least he got two more vlog posts edited; after morning practice and classes tomorrow, he could grab a nap.

Finally the icon blinked on and Bitty expanded the screen to look at the tired, scruffy face of his boyfriend.

“You look tired, Bits,” were the first words out of his mouth.

“I could say the same thing about you, but my mama raised me to have good manners,” Bitty said, smirking a bit so Jack would know he was being chirped. “You need a shave too. But it looks good on you.”

Jack blushed and ducked his head. God, he was so easy to embarrass. It was adorable.

“Everything looks good on you,” Jack finally returned. “Especially my shirt.”

Bitty stopped smirking.

“About that … I may have made a mistake today,” Bitty said.

“A mistake … with my shirt? Did you spill something on it?” Jack was peering at the screen like he was looking for damage. “It’s just a shirt.”

“No, I wore it when I was making breakfast downstairs -- you know those maple-glazed doughnuts? Everyone really likes them,” Bitty said.

“They are good,” Jack said. “Maybe next time you come? I’m sure we can find something to do to fill the time while they’re rising.”

Bitty blushed at the implication, and also with pride. Jack Zimmermann was accounting for time to let the dough rise. 

“Well, that’s why I made them,” Bitty said. “I had an essay to get done. But anyway, everyone else saw me in your shirt.”

“So?” Jack said. “Shitty used to wear my clothes all the time.”

“Jack, you and Shitty lived in the same Haus,” Bitty said. “And you’re the same size, almost.”

“Well, what happened?”

“I overheard Ransom and Holster talking about it, and they think I’m pining so hard for you that they’re going try harder to find me guys to help me get over it,” Bitty said. “Lardo thinks the same thing, but she talked to me about it.”

“Wait -- they think _you_ are pining over _me?”_ Jack asked. “I can see where Ransom and Holster can be annoying, but how can you stop that?”

“By getting a boyfriend,” Bitty said.

“Wait,” Jack said. “I’m tired, so maybe I’m confused, but I thought I was your boyfriend?”

“Of course you are, sweetheart,” Bitty said. “But I didn’t tell Lardo that. I told her I had a boyfriend who lives out of state that I started dating over the summer, and if I seemed sad, it was because I missed him. Also that you and I are good friends, and I have fun fan-boying about the Falconers and I just happened to find this shirt in my room when I moved back in, but Lardo knows I was lying about that. I think she thinks I was just trying to get Ransom and Holster off my back. I'm sorry if this makes things more complicated.”

“Take a breath, Bits,” Jack said. “I don't see how it makes things more complicated for me. Maybe for you, if Ransom and Holster find out that you have a long-distance boyfriend.”

“Oh, they’ll find out,” Bitty said. “How else am I gonna be able to keep them from trying to set me up? The beauty of it is, when they tell Lardo, she’ll tell them she already knew. And I can keep wearing your shirt because it’s warm and I’m always cold.”

“Mmm. I’d really like to see you without it, but I’m about dead, Bits,” Jack said. “Tomorrow, maybe?”

“Sure, Jack,” Bitty said, stifling a yawn. “I’m beat too. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/justlookfrightened)!


End file.
